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Topic: My Words (Read 15355 times)

The whole Phoebe Prince thing is hard. Today's news is that she was afraid to go to the bathroom. That's too close to home. In fourth grade, I repeatedly wet my pants at noon recess because I was afraid to go into the bathroom. It was humiliating, but better than the alternative. It took weeks before an adult asked why.

At least something was eventually done so I could feel safe using the bathroom. Miss Prince didn't have that.

Thank you to those of you who've left replies on this thread. I know they've been taken out, but I get notified of them by e-mail so I do have the opportunity to read your replies. Because I come here so sporadically, I often forget to acknowledge or respond. Please know that it's not because I haven't read or appreciated your input.

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My kids get bullied. As a parent, I have no idea what to do. Neither does my spouse. So, as is my habit, I'm off to the bookstore to seek information. I pick-up a book entitled "Please Stop Laughing At Me" by Jodee Blanco. I read the whole thing in less than 24 hours. It's a page turner. It might not have been a good idea. For the past two days, I've spent the majority of my time crying or trying not to do so. Thankfully, my kids don't recognize red swollen eyes as the result of such.

Spouse keeps asking if I'm OK. I don't know how to explain. He's terrible at the whole understanding thing. It's not that he's insensitive. He tries, but he just doesn't "get it." My oldest has no friends and desperately wanted to quit a church club when we thought was good for him to continue. The boy clearly doesn't fit in with his agemates. As we discuss whether to insist the boy finishes out the year, spouse likens it to when he as a young teen was forced to go to classes to join his church and had to miss Star Trek on TV. He can't even comprehend that this has so much more to do than watching a favorite TV show, no matter how much he liked Star Trek, that it's about the child having No Friends. None. It's not like he's left out of discussing the latest episode of a TV program with his friends the next day at school; it's that the child has no friends with whom to discuss anything. But to him, it's all the same. If he didn't directly experience something exactly like it....he can't expand beyond what he himself has experienced.

Still I am OK. The book just hit a bit too close to home -- AND I'm not sure it'll help (at least directly) with my kids' problems. I'm tempted to purchase the author's next book that appears to actually have ideas about helping children who are being bullied. Having just fallen apart for two days, I don't relish the idea of prolonging this and still not having any idea how to help my kids. Who knows, maybe stirring up memories will help.

Having been treated unkindly by my schoolmates, and having gone through years without friends, I want to help my kids. It's so frustrating knowing what they're experiencing, but not knowing how to help. About the only thing I do know for sure is that ignoring it, like my parents did, doesn't work. It doesn't just "go away", and it's not just one of those things kids have to endure. It certainly didn't make me stronger or a better person.

My kid still gets bullied and I still have no idea what to do about it. The coach that seems to be allowing had his last practice with the team this week. He's a bully himself, but very subtly. I'm glad he's going, and I'm hopeful that whomever replaces him is better. They almost have to be.

Sitting in Sunday School a few weeks ago and the discussion went to spending time with family. The consensus was that attending our childrens games/events wasn't family time, and especially that the kids wanted more time actually WITH their parents. It was an interesting discussion, but considering that we homeschool, I spend lots and lots of time with my kids. Then someone in the class had to go and make One Of Those Remarks. She commented that it may not be family time, but being there for a child's games/events is important. And, then she really did it: she remarked how badly she felt for kids whose parents weren't there and how bad it was for them to look into the stands and not see anyone there for them. It's been one of my bugaboos for years. I never thought much of it until I spent time with my in-laws hearing their stories of their various adventures (and all the time they spent) going to their kids' events. I dunno why it didn't hit me before then. When I was a kid, I knew my friends' parents were there but mine weren't and I didn't like it. Perhaps because I didn't see it as part of the entire picture.

It brought up another uncomfortable situation, too. We're new to the Sunday School class, so it didn't seem appropriate to share really personal information (yet), but it makes me wonder how does one participate in that sort of discussion. It seems so self-serving to pipe up and say, "Yes, it certainly is important. I would have loved to have seen my parents attend those things when I was a kid." OK, not only self-serving, but down-right inappropriate. I mean, the person didn't ask for a commentary on my family's oddities. At the same time, I'm sure the woman who made the remark had no idea the effect it would have on me -- that weeks later, I'd still be mulling it over, unable to escape the discomfort.

These uncomfortable events seem to be collecting. There have been several other situations when a comment about the effects on children of what a person considered a bad parenting practice was something that was quite common in my foo. I'm not sure how many times I can sit and hide the fact that I'm holding my breath to keep from falling apart. I really don't want to cause a scene. I'd like to do my best to have things work at this church and going nutcase on them probably isn't the best way to contribute to it.

It doesn't help that the kid in Arizona killed all those people and now again all the discourse on what should happen to mentally ill people, like there's one category of people with mental problems and they're all dangerous and should be locked-up, denied rights, etc. The whole stigma thing about mental illness rears its ugly head, and that just happens to be the time I screw up taking my medications and end up anxious, generally fearful and wanting to hide. Talk about bad timing.